[undocumented]
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Well, sir, it has been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, a little town that time forgot. Almost a little bit too quiet here this last Tuesday. Father Emil woke up from his nap after dinner, about 2 o'clock, and didn't hear anything, and had a feeling that something had happened or was about to happen. He had had a dream, which he forgot, but it had left him with a feeling of dread. And he poked his head out the door, expecting to hear sirens. And when he didn't hear sirens, he thought, it must be something even worse than that then. Maybe something horrible had happened to the people who would be setting off the sirens. And he put on his warm coat and his overshoes and his scarf and his mittens and his fur cap. And he headed down the street at a brisk pace, went downtown and poked his head in the door at the Chatterbox Cafe, where Dorothy was just bringing some clean dishes out and putting them on the counter. And he said, is everything all right in here? Well, she's a little bit hard of hearing, but she was alarmed to see him and the way he looked, and she said, what? And he said, is everything all right in here? And she said, what's wrong? And he said, I don't know, but I guess it must be someplace else. And she said, well, we better go find out. And she put on her warm coat and they headed down to Ralph's Pretty Good Grocery, alerting people along the way. They went into Ralph's Pretty Good Grocery and they said, what's happened? And Ralph said, where? And they said, we don't know. And one of the customers ran out the door and headed for home. She just remembered all the iron. All the iron. I left the iron on. She ran across Mrs. Ingqvist, old Mrs. Ingqvist, who was coming up the street, and shouted something to her as she went past. And Mrs. Inkfist got the idea it was something at the school. It's at the school, she said. Father Emo and Dorothy and Ralph all heard that, and they all ran down towards the school and joined by a lot of people who had heard the alarm. Gary and Leroy, the town constables, were loitering in the cruiser. It's at the school, they told them. It's down at the school. And they jumped in and they turned on the sirens and they went down to the school. And they arrived there not knowing exactly what it was that was wrong, but that the school had to be evacuated, and they got them out. Seventy children standing around in the snow having a wonderful time. And people not sure exactly what it was had happened or was about to happen. Somebody went to go into the school, somebody said, don't go in there. They said, what's going on here? I think it's gas. It's gas, they said. It's gas. Some of the children said yes, they thought they had smelled gas. Mayor Clint Bunsen arrived in his big white car, and he tried to piece it together to ask people, now what is happening here? What did you hear? What did you hear? Somebody said, we don't have time to stand around talking like this, we've got to do something about it. Well, cold has a way of bringing people to their senses. Eventually, no matter how excited you are, you realize that you are standing outside and it's cold out. Father Emo was the first one to come to his senses. All these people jumping and hollering around him. And he suddenly remembered, where does it come from? Let's go on to school, then, he said. To get out of the cold. Well, they followed him in. Somebody was just about to ask him, wasn't it you who said there was something going on down here? He said, let us give thanks to the Lord and led them in a prayer of thanksgiving that whatever it was that had happened or might have, it seemed to be okay now. Well, I'll tell you, the old boys down at the sidetrack tap, they got a big laugh out of that when they heard about that. They were cackling and wheezing and snarling and beating each other on the backs about that. All those people running down to the school. Oh, they thought that was so funny. I don't think the old boys in the sidetrack would evacuate that place if there were an explosion. Some of them are not sure they'd notice. Like the boiler could go up there at the Sidetrack Tap and somebody just say over his shoulder, you're going to do that, Ed, go outside. Oh, they thought it was so funny. I thought it was inspirational. The fact that when people thought that a terrible thing was about to happen, they headed for the school. That was the first place they thought of. What is the worst thing that could happen to us? The very worst. The most unimaginable horror. Well, they knew what. Their parents. They knew what would be the worst, the worst thing. And that was the place where they went. That's a part of our hearts, you know. Those who are parents, that's a part of your heart that lies on the surface there. There's no skin over that. It's exposed. That was the first place they went. I remember growing up in that town thinking about the worst thing that could possibly happen and thinking about death in that town. It was back at a time when children were not shielded from it, nor was anybody else. And I recall it, especially at this time of year, when a number of people would die in this cold, cold, cold weather. People who were ready, but the cold weather seemed to hasten it. It was the children's choir at Our Lady that sang at funerals. It was the children, little children stood there and sang the Dies Irae and then the In Paradisum. Little kids. And children were often brought to the bedsides of dying persons. They were not shut off in a corner someplace. It was kind of an event. People died at home and relatives gathered, including the children. They were right there on the scenes and saw it. People who were dying would lie there. Somebody would always be on duty holding their hand. People who were dying felt kind of an obligation to rise to the occasion, too, I think, and to come up with last words, you know, to try and say something that people would remember, though it's not easy when you're in that condition, and also most of the good lines probably have already been said. Old Mr. Bluntquist, I remember, old Mr. Roy Bluntquist, lay there deep in thought for a long time as his life was ebbing towards its finish. In the end, all he could think of was, no more for me, thank you. I've had enough. And off he went. Relatives had come and they'd gather for the death watch. And they'd sit down in the kitchen after a while. And, you know, for a while, everybody would be talking in hushed tones and recalling things about the dying person upstairs. But people can't talk in hushed tones for a long time, not for hour after hour. We can't stand at attention that long. Eventually, they just got to talking normally, laughing and telling jokes and talking about the weather and talking about their cars. Usually, there would be a relative who would be scandalized by that. I remember when my great-aunt Matilda died. Aunt Sadie came into the room where people were laughing and they were recalling. They said, do you remember when Daddy used to come in the kitchen and he put his arms around Mama and he'd sing, roll me over in the clover and she'd say, oh, James. Remember that? Aunt Sadie came in and said, how dare you talk about my mother that way when she lies upstairs dying. So then everybody talked in hushed tones for a while until she left the room. It didn't seem like the worst thing that could happen. What is the worst thing that could happen to us? Little Norma Newt. Worst thing ever happened to her in her life happened to her this last Friday. She's at Our Lady's School in the fourth grade. Sister Pierre is her teacher. Sister Pierre had been downstairs in the basement with one of the Magandance boys, coaching him on his catechism. And she came to a question that he couldn't remember the answer to. He's a nervous little kid anyway. But she asked him, who made you? And the answer was right there in the front of his head. And he just couldn't come up with it. And he tried so hard to come up with the answer that he threw up all over the floor. Well, Sister bundled him off to the boys' toilet and she went up to the fourth grade and she was thinking all the way up the stairs. She came in the door of the classroom and she said, we're going to talk about jobs. She said, how many of you want to be nurses? Well, little Norma raised her hand and so did her friend Betty. Sister Pierre said, well, that's wonderful. She said, why don't you come with me? She took them downstairs. She said, nurses do many different jobs. This is one of them. They didn't say no because you don't say no to Sister Pierre. She wouldn't hear you if you did. Oh, Lord, poor little girl. She went home. She said it had been the worst day of her life. Worst thing ever happened to her. Poor little child. I hope that you never have a day in your life that is any worse than that. And I also hope that you have the moon and the stars hung around your neck on a silver chain. People felt a lot better after the school didn't explode. The weather turned cold. Some cars didn't start. Some people got sick. A couple water pipes froze. But for now, at least, the worst thing had not happened. So far. And that's the news from Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, where all the women are strong and all the men are good looking and all the children are above average blessed.
Tennessean Sep 20 1981
Archival contributors: Ken Kuhl